


Imperfect Proposal

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Bright Young Things
Genre: Bickering, Drama & Romance, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 15:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19793881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Someone requested Ginger proposing to Miles.





	Imperfect Proposal

“I mean, a picnic,” Miles muttered, examining his nails and pointedly _not_ looking at Ginger as he spread out the checkered blanket on the grass. It was a fine day, the sun shining, the blue skies dotted with white clouds, and Ginger inhaled through his nostrils, spreading out the blanket. “It’s our _anniversary_ , Ginger. Two years!”

“I know,” Ginger said in a measured tone, getting to his feet and putting the picnic basket onto the blanket. They had been having this argument since he’d bundled Miles into the car, and he supposed it could only be worse if Miles actually started crying. “I have pillows for you in the car.”

“Oh, pillows,” Miles said scornfully, and Ginger grit his teeth as he went to the car, pulling out some of the thick, plump cushions for Miles to recline on. He’d brought everything, really - he had more blankets, in case they got cold, and he had a bottle of wine in the basket, and another bottle of _expensive_ champagne in the car, just in case (although that case was seeming more unlikely by the moment), and even a change of clothes, just... “But I’ll take you to dinner later, if you like.”

Miles was sitting down on the picnic blanket, irritably lighting a cigarette, and he didn’t reply, just pressing his lips together in a little moue, and Ginger ignored the ache in his chest as he put the cushions behind his back, stacking them up. Miles reclined against them.

“You can be so beastly sometimes, you know,” Ginger muttered.

“ _Me_? Beastly!?” Miles demanded, opening his mouth, and Ginger snapped, “ _Yes_ , Miles. You can be a damned spoiled _brat_ , if you must know!”

Miles stared at him, his lips parted, his eyes wide, his nostrils flaring, and Ginger pushed the basket toward him. He couldn’t help the shiver as he said, “You unpack it.”

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Miles muttered, dragging open the wicker basket with more force than necessary, and beginning to set out the plates and the little boxes of sandwiches, “that it _inconveniences_ you, dearest Ginger, that on our _anniversary_ , I wanted to go to an actual restaurant instead of some backwater little field with insects and farm animals everywhere!” He set the flask of tea down with an irritable movement of his hand, and then grabbed at the bottle of wine, which he handed off to Ginger, who didn’t open it right away, just holding the bottle loosely in his palm. “Oh so sorry,” Miles went on, his voice cracking in a way that made Ginger’s chest feel ripped open, “that with all the dreadful things going on I actually want to go to a _restaurant_ with the man I love instead of hiding away and-- What’s this?”

His hand had found the little velvet-covered box on top of the box with the cake in it, and he pulled it out, frowning at it. “Is this one of my earring cases? Ginger, how did it get in the--”

He flicked it open. Miles’ voice trailed off. Ginger watched his face, watched his lips quiver as one hand came up to touch the box, and he saw, in horror, that Miles’ eyes were starting to water, making the mascara that he wore wet and streaky.

“You don’t like it,” he said anxiously. “I just thought that sapphire would suit you, that’s all, you wear so much blue, and I thought sapphire and diamonds was modern, you know, the fellow in the jeweller’s told me that it was very fashionable, unless it’s not the actual _ring_ you don’t like, just that two years now and you already call me your husband and I know we can’t really but I know a fellow, a bent priest, you know, who said he’s taken sacrament for two fellows before, and I just thought that we could--”

Sobbing, Miles threw himself into Ginger’s lap, his arms tightening around his neck, and Ginger settled his hands on Miles’ hips as he sobbed, most uncomfortably actually, against Ginger’s neck.

“Oh, I _am_ beastly,” he moaned, squeezing so tightly that Ginger felt his ribs creak. “Oh, Ginger, Ginger, my darling, I’m so sorry, of course I want to marry you, of course I do, of _course_ I do--”

“Shh, shh,” Ginger said, reaching up and loosely cupping Miles’ cheek.

“I _was_ a spoilt brat!”

“And I love you anyway, Miles, _do_ stop crying, it makes my heart ache to see you so upset.”

Miles looked down at him from his perch on Ginger’s lap, sniffling. He _did_ look a picture, his mascara running in black streaks down his cheeks, making his blush run, too, and his eyes were red rimmed, his nose thick, his lips bitten red. He looked the picture of misery, and Ginger sighed, touching his jaw.

“Don’t cry, darling,” he said softly, and Miles let out a ragged little noise, but he smiled, his gaze turning demurely from Ginger’s. “Let me put it on your finger.” Miles handed him the ring box with a trembling hand, and Ginger gently slid it onto his ring finger, following it up with a kiss to the back of his knuckles, and Miles shuddered. “If you don’t like any part of it, I can get it changed,” he said softly. “I thought you’d like a gold band, but if you don’t, I can change it, and the sapp--”

“It’s _perfect_ , Ginger,” Miles said. “Everything’s perfect. It’s a very romantic setting, and of course you couldn’t propose at a restaurant, and I’m _so_ sorry for being so _horrid_ to you, and we don’t have to go to a restaurant at all, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to--”

“I have a reservation at the Ritz,” Ginger murmured. “For later tonight.”

Miles stared at him. “What did I do to deserve you? You perfect angel?”

“Well,” Ginger murmured. “You’ve just put up with me, I suppose. That’s your cross to bear.”

“Do shut up,” Miles said, and kissed him. It was one of their worst kisses yet, Ginger thought, even that time when Ginger had accidentally bitten Miles’ tongue and made him bleed - Miles was clumsy and still crying, and Ginger was fairly certain some of the mascara had gotten into their mouths, but-- “I love you,” Miles said, kissing his nose. “I love you, my dearest, my _treasure_ , oh, my husband--”

“I love you too,” Ginger said. “Forever, Miles, I mean it, I mean it--”

“Did you bring champagne?”

“It’s waiting in the car.”

“Oh, you _wonder!”_ Miles cried, and shoved him down onto the blanket to kiss him again. 


End file.
